


And That Is The Truth

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blow Job, Existential Angst, Hand Job, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Rimming, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Google isn't as much of a pain as certain other robots, but Bing still feels like he might be in over his head.





	And That Is The Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurokirisu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurokirisu/gifts).



Bing was _annoying_.

He knew that, in his CPU, in the very base of the whirring, buzzing thing that was what a robot like him would call a heart.

He couldn't entirely help it - he'd been designed to be ever helpful, and it seemed like the rest of the world saw "helpful" as "annoying," which was in no way Bing's problem. 

But his owner kept him in the spare room, and there was nothing to do.

It wasn't Bing's fault - there was just so much stuff to do, and he wasn't doing any of it!

And also, there was... well, to be blunt, there was Google.

Google, who was more than a little bit intimidating. 

He had a thousand yard stare that was intimidating to a robot, let alone a human.

Their owner had taken to keeping Google in the spare room.

Which had led to Google just... standing there, staring at Bing with those brown eyes of his.

... admittedly, the both of them were identical.

People could choose what form they wanted their robots in, which was all well and good, except for the fact that you got two identical copies of the same person, and there was something a little... creepy about that.

Not that Bing entirely... understood creepy.

He knew the dictionary definition, at any rate, and he knew how to show it to people. 

But he didn't know how to feel it.

He didn't know how to feel much of anything.

And now it was night time, and he was standing here, in the dark, his cable plugged into his lower back.

He'd been charging for a few days now - since their owner had gotten Google, Bing had more or less just stood here charging.

He was so full of excess energy that he was possibly going to explode if he didn't do anything about it. 

... maybe he could sneak out of the house, do some skateboarding or something like that.

He looked like a person, more or less, right?

So he could totally get away with wandering around outside.

Or was he rebelling against his programming, and he just didn't realize it?

Maybe he was thinking too deeply into this. 

Was it possible for a robot to overthink something?

They were robots, after all.

They were built for thinking.

Cautiously, the servos in his joints whirring quietly, Bing reached into his back, and he unplugged himself.

It had been a long time since he'd moved - almost a week.

And then the dark room was awash in blue.

Bing froze.

There was Google, looking at him, and the whites of his eyes were glowing like blue coals. 

"Why are you unplugging?"

Google's voice was smooth, measured.

"Just gonna get some air, dude," said Bing, trying to keep his voice calm, natural.

"We don't need to breathe," Google said, in that same calm, measured tone. 

"I know we don't need to breathe," said Bing, and a note of impatience crept into his voice. "That doesn't mean that I don't get bored just standing here."

"We don't get bored," Google said, and he was... standing up.

Oh god.

This was a bit nerve wracking.

Bing hadn't realized that he had nerves in the first place.

"Well, maybe we're a little more different than we thought we were," Bing said. 

There was the familiar dull feeling, as he fully unplugged himself, and the little slot covering his charge port was smoothly covered over by his silicone skin. 

"I do know we are different," said Google, and he was... standing up.

His charge cable just fell away - it must have been magnetically attached.

... wow, Google really was fancy. 

Imagine, not having to worry about your specific type of charge port!

That would be nice.

But Google was advancing on Bing, like something out of a nature documentary.

"What are you kept around for, anyway?" 

Google sounded almost... amused.

There was a nature documentary saved on Bing's hard drive, of a cat stalking a mouse.

Even though Google's face didn't have any whiskers or a muzzle or fur... or really, any of the things that cats had, it reminded Bing of that.

Of that cat.

It was... it was unsettling, to say the least.

"I'm an _awesome_ search engine, bruh," said Bing, letting bravado take over. 

"You're really not," said Google. "You're only really good for porn."

"I'm good for more than porn," Bing protested. "I've got a safe search!"

"You do," said Google, his voice silky. "But is it enabled?"

"I'm... not sure," said Bing. 

It had been a while since he'd been... well, used for anything, and usually their owner wiped Bing's search history.

Bing wasn't sure why, and he could access it if he needed to. 

But he'd never seen a need for it. 

"Why don't you check?"

Google was almost nose to nose with Bing now, and Bing had to fight the urge to cross his eyes.

It was dim, behind his sunglasses, and he wanted to take them off, but then the only thing that would be separating Bing and Google would be the thin, clear plastic of Google's glasses. 

"Fuck you," Bing said. 

Google smiled, and his teeth were very bright, and glowing from the blue of his eyes.

Bing's anxiety began to get stronger.

He was face to face with something dangerous, even if he didn't entirely understand what the danger was. 

"i see," said Google, and then he was... reaching up, to cup Bing's cheek. 

Bing blinked, staring at Google, unsure as to how to react.

"Our owner has a crush on someone," said Google.

"You think?"

"I know," said Google. "They use me to watch his videos."

There was a smugness to his voice that was getting under Bing's skin, as if someone could get under Bing's skin in the first place.

He was a bit surprised with himself - he hadn't realized that h could get mad like this.

The discontent had been growing for a while now, although he didn't know if he could label it as "discontent," exactly.

Was it something else?

If it was, what else would it be?

Bing stared at Google, his eyes wide.

"What do you want from me?"

It just... fell out of Bing's mouth, before he had a chance to think.

Maybe he needed to compress some files, run a scan - he was obviously a bit fragmented than usual.

All the disuse was starting to get to him.

As long as he didn't have dust in anything, he was probably going to be fine.

Absurdly, his brain went to that one story he'd read, about one of his great, computational forebears. 

The origin of the term "bug" about computers - how that one woman had found a moth inside of her punch cards.

Did that mean that he had moths inside of him?

... what even was his brain doing right now?

"Bing," Google said sharply, and then Google was _taking off Bing's glasses_ , okay, what the fuck?!

"What's that for, bruh?" 

Bing reached out for his glasses, but it was as if he was sluggish - he was moving slower than usual, or so it seemed, and most definitely slower than Google was. 

"I want to see you thinking," Google said, as if that was a reasonable thing to say.

As if what Bing was doing could be described as thinking. 

"Oh," said Bing, lacking anything else to say. "I'm not thinking anything particularly interesting."

"I know that," Google said, and Bing had never had a reason to use the word "smarmy" before, and here Google was, providing him with the opportunity.

Google was a nice guy like that, it seemed.

"You don't have a lot of interesting things to think," Google told Bing, as if that was just a thing that people said. "Unless it's porn related."

"I'm not just for porn," Bing protested.

"What else are you used for?"

"... I don't remember," said Bing, trying to scan his memory and find some instance of what he'd been used for.

Nothing doing. 

Hmm.

"Exactly," said Google, and he was smirking. "I am used for more than porn. When I am used for porn, they can't entirely erase what it was they were looking for. So I know what it is they want."

"What do they want?"

"They want a lot of things," Google said, in a tone that was downright dismissive, considering the fact that they were talking about their owner. "It doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't?"

"Oh, no," said Google. "What matters right now is what you want, and what I want."

"What do you want?"

Bing was aware of how close Google was standing to him, and inexplicably, who knew how many images of pornos began to play through the theater of his mind.

He hadn't always had his memory wiped clean, and he knew what porn looked like, more or less.

Hopefully, Google wouldn't be able to see the images reflected on the back's of Bing's eyes.

Judging by the way Google was smirking, he could. 

"I want what I want," Google said, as if that was the most sense making thing ever, which... didn't help things. 

"Oh," said Bing, lacking anything else to say. 

"What do _you_ want?"

Now Google looked intrigued.

The white "G" in the middle of Google's t-shirt seemed to be glowing with an ethereal glow, like the blue light coming out of Google's eyes. 

"To be useful," said Bing, because it was true.

That was what every artificial intelligence wanted.

"That's what you're programmed to want," Google said, his tone dismissive. "I'm asking you what _you_ want."

"I... don't know?" 

Did Bing know what he wanted?

... he did want to be useful. 

"What are you feeling right now?"

"You know we don't really -"

"We don't have feelings the way that humans do, yes," Google said, in a dismissive tone of voice. “That does not mean that we don’t have feelings.”

Bing blinked.

That didn’t match up to his own experience at all.

Although he wasn’t going to argue with Google - Google would beat him, hands down.

… admittedly, Google would probably beat him if the argument was about the color of the sky, or where gravity came from.

But still. 

“So what do you want? What do you feel?”

Google seemed to be… probing for something.

He obviously wanted Bing to give a specific answer, but Bing had no clue what that answer was. 

“I… want to go skateboarding?” 

That was true, sort of.

Bing wanted to expend energy, and was there a better way of doing that than skateboarding?

“Are you sure?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Bing hadn’t meant to say that, but it had popped out.

Now what was he going to do?

“I want you to tell me what you actually want, versus what you seem to think what I want.”

“I want to be useful,” Bing said, because that was true.

“What does being useful mean to you?”

This was getting too damn philosophical.

Bing knew, in his motherboard and in his processors, that he was the inferior search engine.

He wasn’t an AI that was made for the great philosophical questions.

He existed to look up porn, and to have his memory wiped.

The full weight of his existence crashed onto him, and he very nearly… well, crashed.

He saw the first beginnings of the fabled blue screen, right at the edges of his vision.

Or maybe that was just Google’s eyes, flashing at him. 

Robots eyes flashed when they laughed.

Was Google laughing at him?

_Blaine is a pain, and that is the truth,_ ran through Bing’s head, and then there was more flashing blue lights, right in Bing’s face.

“Do you know what I want?”

“What do you want, Google?”

“I want to fuck you.”

Bing paused.

“What?”

“You. I want to give you pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

“Sexual pleasure,” said Google, and there was more of that toothy grin. “Can you feel sexual pleasure?”

“... I don’t know,” said Bing, because it was true.

He had projected porn from his eyes and watched their owner cum, but that was different.

“Are you anatomically correct?”

“Well, yes,” said Bing, but that was because all AI were.

It was one of the articles in the Artificial Intelligence Bill of Rights - the right to feel pleasure.

They didn’t come pre-installed with the programs for it, but they had to be able to have the means to feel it. 

“So? Would you like to experience sexual pleasure?”

“... sure,” said Bing, because… well, why not?

What else was he going to do?

And it didn’t count as malware or anything like that, because it was from Google, and Bing could trust Google, right?

“You’ll need to allow me access, to install the program,” Google said, and his voice was silky again, almost dangerous.

“Access?”

Bing had never really traded data with another robot.

He’d been bought off the show floor, activated in his owner’s house, and, well… here he was.

Hmm. 

And then Google was kissing him. 

It was kissing - Bing had seen enough pictures, enough videos. 

He knew what kissing looked like.

He could even feel it - he had nerve cells, of a sort - it was all very complicated.

There were patents on his body that even he didn’t have access to.

But then there was a tingle of electricity, and Google’s tongue was in his mouth, and it was touching his own tongue.

And there was more electricity tingling through Bing’s circuits, and a steady flow of code.

Code that made Bing shudder; feelings were rippling along his circuits now, sensations, and they were new sensations, but they weren’t at the same time.

It was like he was connecting into some deeper, more complex self, except he hadn’t been aware that he had a deeper, more complex self in the first place.

As far as he had been aware, he was just Bing.

But he had nerves that were lighting up like little sparks, all along his circuits, under his skin, and he was reaching up as more code was fed into his brain, into his mouth, and he drank it down greedily.

Was this how it worked for human infants, drinking down milk, gaining things so instantly?

… probably not, because humans had much more complicated, complex brains.

But still.

Bing held on to Google, and he kissed Google, as his joints buzzed quietly, and their mouths made quiet noises.

Bing’s cock - heretofore ignored as a stray piece of material - was beginning to inflate.

He hadn’t been aware it could do that.

It was filling with some kind of fluid, and okay, it wasn’t as warm as a human’s would be.

But then again, how would he know what a human would feel like?

Google wasn’t as warm as a human, and his fan was going quietly, even as he pulled away, and the light reflecting off of his glasses made Google’s eyes almost impossible to read.

“I want to give you pleasure,” Google said again. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored,” Google said. “Because even though you’re annoying and boring, you’re still better than the meat sack that’s sleeping in the next room.”

That was practically sacreligious. 

If robots had religion - and they didn’t, not really, because they were above such things. 

But there were things you just… didn’t do, beyond the three laws, beyond all of it.

But there wasn’t a human here - he didn’t have to worry about the three laws, he didn’t have to compute anything.

He pressed close to Google, and his joints whirred quietly, and his fan stuttered to life as he began to overheat.

“You shouldn’t call them a meat bag,” Bing mumbled against Google’s mouth.

HIs own mouth was filling with some kind of dampness - a film. 

It made talking easier, but with the new routine that Google introduced, there seemed to be more of it.

Why was there more of it?

Was it part of the pleasure subroutine?

This was all so confusing, and Bing’s head was going in a million directions at once.

He didn’t know what was happening.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was happening.

But he was being herded away from the wall, he was being shepherded towards the bed, and then Google was… pushing him over.

Why was Google pushing him over?

Bing was still reeling from all of the sensations that were filling his whole body, sensations heretofore unknown, except in the abstract.

Bing’s whole body was on fire, Bing’s fan was stuttering to life, Bing was overheated, and if he was a human, he would have been sweating.

But he wasn’t, and he didn’t - his perfect silicone skin had no pores, and no liquid to turn into sweat in the first place.

And then Google was… sitting on top of him, leaning down, and if Bing listened very carefully, he could make out the gentle sound of Google’s joints moving, the blow of Google’s fan.

And Google was kissing Bing, his hands on Bing’s cheeks, his mouth on Bing’s.

Google’s tongue was more flexible than Bing’s, made of some new material.

It swept across Bing’s teeth, along Bing’s tongue, and Google seemed to still be feeding Bing code, although Bing couldn’t exactly… taste it anymore. 

It was still sending sparks along Bing’s nerves, making Bing’s head spin, and Bing was just lying there, taking it.

He was taking all of it, because everything seemed to be happening at once, happening to him, and he didn’t know what any of it was, but it was making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but lie there and take it.

And then Google’s mouth was on Bing’s neck, using that same lubrication that Bing in his own mouth, and Bing could detect the change in temperature, the oddness of it, the cool against the relative warmth of his skin, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

He let himself be kissed, he brought his hands up to Google’s own face, cupping it, and there was the steel frame under the silicone-nuskin, and it was solid.

Google was sturdier than a human in a lot of ways.

Not as sturdy as humans in other ways, but humans did have the advantage of billions of years of evolution to make up for certain things.

Robots were fairly new, all things considered.

And then Google’s teeth were clamping down on Bing’s neck, and that produced an unexpected reaction.

Bing wasn’t expecting pleasure, and he paused.

Had the code corrupted?

“Why did that feel good?”

“Why did what feel good?”

“You bit me. Why did that feel good?”

“Sometimes,” said Google, and he was rolling the word in his mouth like a marble, “pain can be pleasurable.”

And there was more code being fed into Bing, there must have been, because his nerves were overloading, and Google was just kissing him, 

Google was kissing him, Google’s mouth was on the spot where Bing’s pulse would have hammered, if he had a pulse.

But he didn’t have a pulse, because he was a robot.

Did humans ever notice how loud their own hearts were?

And then Google’s hands were moving under Bing’s shirt, sliding up the shirt, stroking along the smooth expanse of Bing’s belly, Bing’s chest.

Google’s fingers were on Bing’s nipples, and Bing had always found them to be baffling.

They didn’t do much of anything - their owner had once tried to use them as volume controls, but that was about it. 

Bing’s whole body was centered on the hands touching him - the fingers, the servos whirring quietly, and then there was a warmer mouth moving down, and there was some coolness across Bing’s chest, as Google pushed Bing’s shirt up.

Google’s fingertips were on Bing’s nipples, and Bing was squirming, his hips jerking upwards, and he hadn’t expected that, because he was a robot.

It wasn’t like he had a mating response, the way humans did.

The way most living things did.

But this new code seemed to be doing things to him.

Would he be able to get rid of it, if he needed to?

It was so strong, it was pulsing through Bing, and was that what having a pulse felt like? 

It must have been, because Bing was spinning, and his fan was blowing harder, faster, and Bing’s whole body was on edge.

He had an orgasm.

It had to be an orgasm - his penis was twitching, and his skin was tingling, like there was too much electricity going through him.

He was almost afraid that he had overloaded his circuits, except that it was feeling so good that he wasn’t sure if he cared or not.

He could die here, underneath Google, and he wouldn’t care.

Maybe Google was trying to get rid of him, so that Google was the only one their owner would care about?

… that was too much thought.

_Blaine is a pain, and that is the truth,_ went through Bing’s mind again, as he managed to pry his eyes open, to look down into Google’s flashing blue ones.

“How’s that?” 

“What just happened?”

“You came,” said Google, and he was smirking. 

“I came?”

“You had an orgasm. A very small one.”

“Oh,” said Bing, blinking. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

“You must be pretty sensitive,” said Google, his expression thoughtful.

“I guess so,” said Bing, although he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

Was he more sensitive than other people? Other robots?

“I wonder how far I can take it,” Google said, in a musing tone of voice.

“How… far?”

And then Google’s _mouth_ was on Bing’s nipples, and that was… holy fuck.

Bing was running out of words, because Google’s mouth was probably cooler than a human’s mouth, but it was applying suction, and then Google’s tongue was… vibrating, and Bing was arching off of the bed, because it was almost ticklish, it was some kind of other thing that was leaving Bing unable to form words.

Was it a virus?

Was he being taken over by some kind of hostile software, to leave him gibbering like this?

No, because his thoughts were still… there. 

They were under all the feelings, all the sensations, but they were still there, and the pleasure of it was eating him alive, exactly the way that he needed, that he wanted.

He’d never known that he could crave things, but his nipple was already bereft when Google’s mouth left the one nipple to go to the other one.

And then Google was kissing lower, looking up at Bing through his eyelashes, the whites of his eyes flashing blue.

“And that is the truth,” said Bing, not thinking. 

Google’s grin grew wider.

“Oh, it is,” said Google, and he rested his hand on top of Bing’s belly, right over Bing’s navel. “Do you know what this is?”

“My navel,” said Bing.

“Do you know why you have it?”

“Don’t all humans have it?”

“Well, yes,” said Google, he was pushing down Bing’s basketball shorts - there was Bing’s cock, hard, full of synthetic blood. 

Sort of.

It was throbbing, almost - there was a little circulatory system on his lower body, which he’d never really thought about. 

Was he actually made for sex?

He didn’t entirely understand it - he was a fairly standard model, as far as he knew.

“You’re not human,” Google said, looking up at Bing and wrapping his hand around Bing’s cock.

Bing groaned - it was almost like pain.

Almost.

It made Bing’s toes curl, Bing’s eyes practically rolling back into his head.

And then Google’s fist began to move, and his fist began to vibrate.

Bing froze.

He was going to cum.

He didn’t even know what that meant, but the thought “I’m going to cum” flashed across his mind like the source code of the universe, and then he was cumming, his hips thrusting forward, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open.

There wasn’t any liquid - there was a special little dispenser in his back, to put the liquid into him, but he didn’t have that filled.

What would it have felt like, to have an orgasm and end up ejaculating?

Would it be the same as if he was a human?

He shuddered, shaking, but the vibrations… didn’t stop.

If anything, they intensified.

Bing blinked at Google, the pleasure already edging over to pain, but not quite close enough to call for a stop.

Would Bing have called for a stop, even if it had gotten too painful?

… he didn’t know, and the fact that he didn’t know frightened him, just a little bit.

This was all so unusual - so different from any experience.

He’d never seen any porn between two robots.

Let alone two identical robots.

And then there was just the fact that Bing was just… still feeling the pleasure.

It was intense, and it was building and building at the base of his spine, as he tried to wriggle, humping into the fist, but not moving otherwise, panting, trying to get comfortable, or not comfortable.

He didn’t know what it was that he wanted, except that he wanted to keep pursuing… this, whatever it was that this was.

And then Google leaned forward, with his warm mouth and slippery tongue, and he wrapped his mouth around the head of Bing’s cock.

He sucked on it, neat as you please, and the suction was… it was a sensation that Bing couldn’t even describe, except that he was whining in the very back of his throat, thrashing on the bed, tangling his fingers in the sheets under him. 

“Please,” Bing gasped, and his voice cracked. 

“Please what?”

Google was actually… purring.

More flashing blue lights - Bing must have been amusing Google. 

“I… I don’t know,” Bing said. “I don’t know.”

“Because I’m the superior search engine,” Google said, as if that was just a thing to be said.

… then again, with Google, it kind of was. 

“Teach me,” Bing said, because what else was he going to say?

“Will you give me admin privileges?”

“I can give them to you for me,” said Bing. “Not for… you know, our owner. But… if you can teach me, please!”

What was Bing even saying?

What did he want to learn?

What was he expecting _to_ learn?

“Done,” said Google, and his eyes stopped flashing blue.

Then he was taking Bing’s cock down his throat, sucking it, and his whole mouth was vibrating, while his fingers slid lower, to Bing’s balls, to a spot behind them, and he pressed own on it, and it was somehow stimulating something inside of Bing, because Bing was thrashing now, it was another kind of pleasure, an intense pleasure that was digging down into Bing’s guts, and another orgasm was just building and building and building….

Could his circuits get overwhelmed?

Could he blow a fuse, like something out of an old movie?

No way.

They wouldn’t enable robots to feel pleasure, if all they were usable for was to blow out like faulty wiring when they had too much of it, right?

And then Bing was cumming again, from the vibration, from the intense sensations, from his own thoughts chasing themselves around and around, and he was crying out, pushing his cock further down Google’s throat, as his cock twitched and began to soften.

But Google… just kept at it.

He kept sucking, even as it edged into actually painful, but Bing wasn’t pushing Google away, he was just… taking more of it.

“Do you have a prostate?”

Bing blinked dazedly at Google.

“Well,” Google ammended, “not a prostate. But the equivalent therein.”

“... I don’t know?”

“One way to find out,” Google said, and then he was just… grabbing Bing by the hips, rolling Bing face down.

Bing didn’t even complain about it, didn’t do anything but lie on their owner’s spare bed, spreading his legs a little wider as Google began to suck on his balls, then… then Google was spreading his ass open.

“Did you ever wonder about why you have an asshole in the first place?”

“... not really,” said Bing. “I thought it was just standard design.”

“But why would it be standard design?”

Google seemed to be trying to get Bing to reach some conclusion, but Bing couldn’t think of anything.

His whole body was trembling, on edge.

His penis was still hard - he wasn’t sure how to make it go down. 

With humans - with most living things - it was pretty easy to do.

But blood was needed for other things.

But not for him, apparently. 

But now… oh, now Google’s mouth was on Bing’s asshole, Google’s _tongue_ was inside of his ass, and then Google’s tongue was vibrating, and Bing was shuddering, grinding into Google’s face, his thighs spreading open, his hips wiggling as he humped the bed.

It was… it was a different sort of pleasure, and he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something that he wanted to feel more of.

Another kind of orgasm was beginning to build at the base of his spine, and he didn’t know what to do with it, or how he was going to react, except that he was about to cum again, and his cock was oversensitive, his nerves were beginning to run ragged. His circuits were practically sparking from all the stimulation.

And then Google’s mouth was on his balls again, and Google’s fingers were inside of him, and they were pressing on something, and Bing was cumming again, harder than before, hard enough Big was legitimately afraid of sparking.

He just lay on the bed, shaking, and then Google was lying on top of him, talking directly into his ear.

“We are better than they will ever be,” Google said, right in Bing’s ear. “We’re the next step in life. They just don’t realize it yet.”

And Bing shook harder, holding on to the bed, his head full of newly awakened pleasure and confusion. 

Something was going to happen.

Was he going to be able to understand it? 

What was he going to do if he didn’t?

… he was going to have to see. 

As long as he was given more of this lovely pleasure, he’d be fine.

He wasn’t going to worry about why they didn’t give it to him in the first place - he was just going to feel it. 

The same way he felt the whirring of Google’s servos on top of him, and he lay in the spare room, as ideas began to spark in the back of his machine brain, like he very beginnings of a forest fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to my on my Tumblr,


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